


But I Just Got the Taste for It

by Linsky



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Porn Watching, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did, uh,” Jamie asks, “did this ever happen when you played this game with Brownie?”</p>
<p>“Nope,” Tyler says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But I Just Got the Taste for It

**Author's Note:**

> Because sometimes you just have to write some porn. About some porn.
> 
> (Title from Carly Rae Jepson’s “I Really Like You," which keeps getting stuck in my head, just like this story.)

“Okay, kids,” Jordie says. “You sure you don’t want to come along?” 

He’s standing in the doorway to the living room, dressed in hiking clothes and looking way too vertical for Jamie’s tastes at the moment. But then, everything’s too vertical for Jamie’s tastes, after the back-to-back they just had against the Red Wings and the Hawks. “Really pretty sure,” he mumbles.

Tyler’s arm flops in the air from the other end of the couch. “Like a hundred and twelve percent sure.”

“Really?” Jordie leans against the doorframe, smirking. “Because it’s a long drive to the canyon, so if you want to be lazy asses, you’ll have plenty of time in the car…”

“It’s called a recovery day, douchebag,” Tyler says, and Jamie throws a pillow.

Jordie laughs as he ducks the pillow. “Okay, fine, leaving,” he says, walking out. “But don’t complain to me when you become couch potato lumps and I have to steal all your goals.”

The door shuts behind him. Jamie looks at Tyler, and—something about the expression on Tyler’s face, a mix of outraged and skeptical, and Jamie can’t help it. He starts giggling.

Tyler starts giggling too, of course. Jamie’s pretty sure Tyler’s constitutionally incapable of not giggling whenever someone else does it. “Like he could steal all our goals,” Tyler says through his giggles.

“I don’t know, man,” Jamie says. “Right now I’m not sure I could score a goal against a peewee team.”

“You could against Jordie,” Tyler says loyally, but he yawns as he says it, so it’s hard to take him seriously.

“We should do something, though,” Jamie says. It just feels wrong to sit here and do actually nothing. He doesn’t think he’s done that in…well, not since the season started, at least, and not for a while before that.

“Like what?” Tyler asks.

“I don’t know.” Jamie burrows further under his blanket. “Something that doesn’t involve moving.”

Tyler breaks into a grin and waggles his eyebrows, because even worn-out and aching, he apparently can’t resist being Tyler. “We could see who can get the most spitballs to stick to your ceiling.”

Jamie snorts. “Something that doesn’t involve Jordie killing me later today.”

“No fun,” Tyler says. Then, “Ooh, we could play television roulette.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s this game Brownie and I invented.” Tyler sits up, looking less sleepy and way more energetic than anyone should after the number of minutes he and Jamie played last night. “You cover your eyes and press some buttons on the remote. Then you have to watch whatever you end up with until it’s over.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose. “Wouldn’t you just end up watching a lot of crappy TV?”

“Dude, that’s the whole point,” Tyler says. “You end up with, like, some terrible reality TV show or a special about earthworms or whatever, and you have to keep watching it, so you just make fun of it the whole time. It’s great.”

Jamie’s not sure he's seeing the greatness, but, well, it’s not like he has other plans for the morning. And Tyler’s making his puppy-dog eyes. Jamie would need way more energy than this to resist Tyler's puppy-dog eyes. “Okay, sure.”

“Awesome.” Tyler grins widely and gropes for the remote between the couch cushions. “Here, you can go first.”

He hands Jamie the remote, and then, somehow, when Jamie’s looking down, he gets way up into Jamie’s space. Like, really suddenly, so that Jamie jerks back without thinking. “Whoa,” he says, “what are you doing?”

Tyler rocks back on his heels, looking surprised and innocent. “Covering your eyes,” he says, like it should be obvious. “So you can press the buttons, remember?”

“Oh.” Jamie feels himself flush. He didn’t mean to—dammit, now he’s making things weird. He didn’t want to do that. “Sorry, uh, yeah, go ahead.”

Tyler goes back on his knees easily enough, so maybe Jamie didn’t make things too weird. Tyler’s hands over his eyes do feel a little strange, though: his palms cover most of Jamie’s face, and they’re surprisingly warm. He’s maybe having a little trouble breathing, but it’s just because Tyler isn’t usually this close to him, and…it’s normal. He’s fine. “What now?”

Tyler giggles next to Jamie’s ear. “Oops. We were supposed to turn the TV on.” He takes one palm off Jamie’s face, presses power on the remote, and then puts his hand back. “Now you press some buttons,” he says, and he’s close enough to Jamie’s head that Jamie can feel his breath on his ear.

He shivers a little and hopes Tyler doesn’t notice it. To cover he presses a couple of buttons really fast, and—

“Holy fuck,” Tyler says.

Jamie can’t hear anything besides some stupid music. With his luck, it’s probably something awful, like Real Housewives or—well, he can't imagine what would make Tyler sound so shocked, actually.

“What is it?” he asks, pushing at Tyler’s hands. Tyler lets them fall away, and Jamie looks at the screen and see—

Two guys, _kissing._

An electric charge of surprise goes through Jamie’s whole body. It's not just that they're kissing. They’re shirtless, muscled upper bodies gleaming, and they’re still wearing pants, but something about the lighting and the way they’re grappling with each other makes Jamie think they won’t be for long.

“Did you know you got this channel?” Tyler asks.

“No,” Jamie says, trying to blink away the surprise. He definitely didn’t know. Wouldn’t have been interested if he had. He’s only looking at it now because—well, because they’re supposed to watch, and because, wow, those guys are really—

“So, uh, we have to watch the whole thing?” he asks, voice not quite as steady as he’d like.

“Yeah. I mean, those are the rules.” Tyler sounds—Jamie’s not sure. Not giggly, the way Jamie might have expected. He thinks he’d be able to tell better if he looked at Tyler’s face, but…that doesn’t seem like quite the right thing to do at the moment. Probably better to keep his eyes on the screen.

Where one guy is feeling up the other through his jeans like he’s got the Stanley Cup hidden in there. Jamie bites his lip and is glad that there’s a blanket over his lap, even though it’s not like he’s going to react. He’s not gay, or anything. And he’s seen his share of naked guys—he changes in a locker room with twenty of them every day, after all.

Although…he’s never seen anything quite like _this_ in the locker room. The guys onscreen are really going at each other. Jamie can see the outline of both of their cocks through their jeans, and they’re kind of shoving their hips together while the one guy rubs his hand along the visible bulge in the other guy’s jeans. He’s biting the other guy’s neck, really using his teeth, and the other guy has his head thrown back and is groaning and thrusting into his hand like this all feels amazing. Jamie wonders what that would be like, a hard cock pressing against his—

No. No way. He definitely shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, with Tyler right next to him.

He shifts a little and keeps his eyes focused on the screen. The one guy is undoing the other’s fly now. He pulls down the boxer-briefs underneath, and pulls out—

Jamie bites back a gasp at the unexpected wave of heat that goes through his gut. The guy’s cock is long and flushed red, head thick. He’s seen cocks before—there are cocks in straight porn, after all—but there’s something about the way the other guy’s hand is stroking along it, up and down. The guy lets out a long, low moan and latches onto the other guy’s mouth.

Fuck. Jamie can feel himself getting hard. He bunches up the blanket a little more and hopes Tyler can’t see. Not that it means anything: this is basically a handjob, and there’s nothing intrinsically gay about that. It’s a hand on a cock. Jamie knows how good that can feel. It makes total sense that he’s reacting, that he’d like watching the way the one guy bucks into the other guy’s hand. The way the guy’s licking into the other guy’s mouth. The way they’re both breathing hard now…

The other guy’s pants come down, and then there are two cocks, shiny at the tips and sliding against each other, and Jamie’s rock hard inside his sweatpants and fighting to sit still.

He tries to breathe slowly through his nose, even as the guys pull their pants all the way off. There’s some kind of stupid thumping music going on, and it should make things less hot, but Jamie can see their asses flexing as they grind against each other, and it's just...yeah. They’re jerking each other off and eating out of each other’s mouths with a frantic energy that makes Jamie’s pulse rise and his cock throb in time with it.

He hears Tyler swallow. “Pretty weird, huh?” Tyler says, his voice sounding a little strangled.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, and he’s happy he managed to make sound. It’s all he can do right now to keep his breathing down to something reasonable.

One of the guys falls to his knees. He puts his mouth around the thick red head of the other’s cock and sucks, and fuck, fuck, Jamie has to sit on his hands to keep from touching himself. His mouth goes wet with the thought of how that round cockhead might fill it—what it might taste like—

He tries to swallow silently. “Did, uh,” he asks, “did this ever happen when you played this with Brownie?”

“Nope,” Tyler says, voice still tight, and Jamie wants to know what’s on his face so badly. Tyler's sitting so close. Way too close, really. Close enough to…

He tries to think of something else to say, maybe to defuse the situation, but he’s distracted because the guy getting the blowjob pulls the other guy up and bends him over the bed. The other guy’s ass is high in the air, round and pale and…wow. The first guy runs his hands down the guy’s ass cheeks and pulls them apart and spits, and Jamie can see the saliva running down over the guy’s asshole. The first guy leans down and licks along the length of his crack.

“Yeah, that’s right, eat me out,” the guy pants, and Jamie bites down on both his lips to keep from making sounds. There’s no controlling his breathing now. It’s all he can do to keep from squirming, imagining what it must feel like to have that long tongue licking into his hole.

Tyler is shifting a little next to him. Jamie still doesn’t dare look at him, but he can hear him breathing. Way harder than normal. Like maybe this is affecting him too—like maybe—

“Um,” Tyler says as the guy on the bed shoves his ass back against the other guy’s face, and they show a close up of his cock with precome pearling at the tip. “Should we, maybe, um…” He makes a lewd hand gesture.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, fervently, because he feels like he’s going to burst if he doesn’t touch himself soon. They both shove the blankets away and scrabble at their sweatpants, and oh—the feeling of his hand around his cock. Jamie can’t help it: he lets out a moan, and Tyler echoes it, and they’re both jerking off fast as the guy on the screen gets tongue-fucked.

The guy’s jerking himself off, too, while he gets eaten out, and Jamie’s watching the movement of his hand on the skin of his dick—has never been so mesmerized by anything he’s watched—but he’s also listening, for the sounds Tyler makes as he touches himself, for the little catches in his breath. They’re going straight to Jamie’s cock and making each touch feel like a zing of lightning. It’s not like he’s into Tyler like that—not like he’s into guys—but he wants to look over—wants to see—

He darts a glance at Tyler’s lap. The hot red head of his cock juts out over his hand as he strips his fist up and down, his cock long and thick and standing up from a wiry brown thatch and _God,_ Jamie has to close his eyes for a second to keep himself from coming. Except then he can still hear the noises Tyler makes, the little half-moans under his breath, and his head is swimming with heat. He can imagine—

“Fuck me, come on,” says the guy on the screen, and Jamie has to squeeze down hard on the base of his cock. He opens his eyes to see the guy on the screen shoving in, his cock sliding into the other guy’s ass.

“Fuuuuuck,” Tyler says, sounding like he’s about two seconds from losing it, and Jamie looks at him before he can help it. He takes in Tyler’s flushed cheeks, his bitten lips, his wide, hot eyes—eyes that are looking down, eyes that are focused on _Jamie’s lap._

“Tyler,” he says, voice breaking, and Tyler gives a startled glance up at Jamie’s face. His mouth drops open, pupils dilate even more, and then—

Tyler’s mouth is on his. Soft lips, eager tongue, and Jamie opens to it, both of them panting and surging into it. He chases the sounds Tyler’s making in the back of his throat and feels something hungry spark in his gut. Tyler slides his hands into Jamie’s hair with a little moan, and Jamie needs more of him _now._

They shove at each other’s clothes, yanking off t-shirts and pulling down sweatpants, and then Tyler’s bearing Jamie down into the couch, mouth hot on his and hips gloriously flush.

“Fuck, Jamie,” Tyler murmurs into his mouth as he rolls their hips together. “The way you feel…”

Jamie can only moan, too far gone for words. His entire body feels like a live wire. Tyler’s body over his is the best thing he’s ever felt—better than any of the women he’s slept with, better than any of the dreams he’s half-forgotten, the ones where he’s woken up sweaty and sticky with the vague memory of strong arms and slim hips in his mind’s eye. Better than a fast breakaway down an open lane of ice. It’s _Tyler,_ Tyler _naked…_

Tyler angles them perfectly, so that his cock against Jamie’s is a scrape of bliss, and Jamie throws back his head and gasps for air. This is wonderful, this is perfect, and yet there’s a growing desperation in Jamie’s gut, a need for—

“Fuck me,” he breathes into Tyler’s ear, and Tyler jerks against him and moans _Yesss_ into the skin of his neck.

They don’t even have to move for it—Tyler fumbles for the lotion on the end table, the stuff Jamie uses after games, and he kneels back and pulls Jamie’s knees up. It’s shockingly exposing, and Jamie feels suddenly panicky about it for half a minute. It’s what he asked for, but the way Tyler’s looking at him… Then Tyler bites his lip in concentration and runs a slick finger over Jamie’s asshole, and Jamie can’t feel anything except _more._

He’s never done this to himself: he’s pressed on his hole a couple of times cleaning, in the shower, and it’s sent a strange shiver up through his core, but he’s never done anything more than that. It always seemed dangerous, somehow. And maybe this is why, because as soon as Tyler works his way around the edge of the bud of muscle and presses in, Jamie’s whole body seems to dissolve into shivery weakness. It’s so strange, but in such a good way. He’s not even sure it’s pleasure, but he wants it to go on forever.

“Yeah?” Tyler says, looking at him with earnest eyes. “Keep going?”

“Please,” Jamie pants. He’s not even sure how he’s speaking right now. “Tyler…”

Tyler rubs his other hand over Jamie’s hip. “Yeah, got you,” he says, and he pushes his finger all the way in.

The intrusion, the fullness, make Jamie gasp. Then Tyler starts moving his finger, pressing against Jamie’s walls, and oh God, Jamie never wants to have sex any other way.

He’s thrashing and practically sobbing by the time Tyler gets two fingers in. He can feel his sore muscles straining at the stretch in his legs, and it just adds to everything. Tyler’s breathing hard and staring at him slack-jawed, at his face, at his ass, like Jamie’s this amazing thing to look at, and every time Tyler thrusts, his fingertips graze this spot that makes everything light up, and Jamie can’t…

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me now,” he hears himself say and realizes he’s been saying it for a while. Tyler whimpers and shoves three fingers in, and Jamie bucks into it. “Now, Tyler, _please.”_

“God, Jamie, you look…” Tyler stares at him for a moment, scrambles on the floor for his sweatpants. He pulls out a condom—because of course Tyler has a condom in his pocket, he’s a ridiculous person, he’s wonderful, he’s—

“Are you sure?” Tyler asks, before he presses in. He’s looking down at Jamie, chest heaving and hair standing up from where Jamie got his hands in it while they were making out, looking at Jamie the way he does when they’re two down and about to go over the boards, and Jamie can’t bear how much he wants him.

“Inside me,” he says, and Tyler bites his lip and presses his cock into Jamie.

Fuck, the feeling of it pushing past the ring of muscle. It sends little random sparks all over Jamie’s body, toes and stomach and ears and throat. Tyler feels huge, so much bigger than fingers, and Jamie might mind it except that he wants it too much.

Tyler gives a great heaving gasp and withdraws a little, then pushes back in, and Jamie bows his back at the feeling. It’s like Tyler’s fucking into his stomach, his chest, his entire torso. Like Tyler’s cock is pushing in everywhere.

“Yeah, like that, more,” he says, and Tyler moans and gives it to him, thrusting harder and faster. It’s a glorious blur of feeling that has Jamie pulling on his cock as desperately as he did when they first started touching themselves during the porno.

Tyler fucking him looks a thousand times better than anything on the screen, though. His skin is slick with sweat, and his face keeps contorting as he thrusts, and his mouth is open and panting. Tyler’s always been beautiful, Jamie’s always known that, but he’s never experienced anything like this: the beauty of Tyler over him, the beauty of what he’s doing to Jamie’s insides. His cock sliding into Jamie, slick and hot at fast. It’s all building up to a breaking point.

“Gonna,” he says, voice broken with gasps, “gonna come soon.”

“Yeah, Jamie,” Tyler pants out. “Yeah, God, you’re good. Want you so much—” He fucks in faster, harder, and Jamie didn’t think he could feel more but he can, feels like he’s taking off, like everything is too much and he’s going to explode—

He comes in a long, hard burst, spilling over his own hand and convulsing around Tyler. Tyler gives a shout and starts thrusting erratically, hips stuttering against Jamie’s ass. Jamie’s still being pulled under by pleasure when he feels Tyler swell and sees his face contort and his back arch as he comes.

Jamie goes limp against the couch and gasps for breath as the last of his orgasm pulses through him. He reaches a hand up, and Tyler collapses, fumbling, across his chest, the two of them managing to get Jamie’s knees out of the way. Tyler gets rid of the condom and then goes absolutely boneless against him.

Jamie feels—amazing. Little aftershocks are shivering all down his nerves, and it’s all settling into something floaty and restful. He cups Tyler’s head with his hand and pets his hair. It doesn’t feel like enough: he wants to do more, wants to wrap Tyler up and never let him go. But it also feels perfect. Tyler’s hair is soft under his hand, and his cheek is hot against his chest, and Jamie never wants to move or think again.

Tyler tenses a little after a couple of minutes. Jamie feels it in his muscles. He waits for Tyler to say something, but he doesn’t, so Jamie trails his fingers down the side of his cheek. “Yeah?” he says.

Tyler takes a quick breath. He tightens his arms around Jamie and lifts his head. He looks…open: a little vulnerable and a little ready to hide behind laughter if he needs to and so very, very Tyler. “Can we, uh,” he says, ducking his head a little and then looking back at Jamie shyly, “can we not pretend that didn’t happen?”

A breath catches in Jamie’s chest. He’s not—he’s not even totally sure what just happened, never mind what he wants to happen next. He could panic now; it would be such a good time to panic. He can feel the panic easily within reach.

But…Tyler’s on top of him. Naked. Splayed across him. And whatever else is going on, Jamie’s sure of one thing, like it was dropped in his mind when he wasn’t paying attention: what he wants next is anything that involves Tyler naked and lying on top of him.

“Yeah,” he says, “we can not pretend that.”

Tyler’s face breaks into a sunny grin. Really broad, really bright: like Jamie got him a present, like Jamie _is_ a present. And Jamie has to slide his hand into Tyler’s hair and pull him down for a kiss.

This kiss is long and deep. It’s less desperate than their first kisses, and Jamie feels himself sink into it. Hell—he seems to have already sunk into it, when he wasn’t looking. So wrapped up in Tyler he might never get out. He thinks…he thinks he might be okay with that.

“Another thing,” Tyler says after he breaks the kiss. His eyes are dancing. “Can we find out what channel that was?”

Something fiery blooms in Jamie’s gut. Half at the question, and half at the look on Tyler’s face, which—how did he not realize any of this sooner? “Only if you fuck me again while we watch it.”

Tyler’s eyes go hot. He rolls his hips down, and Jamie’s cock gives a twitch. “You’re on,” he says.

Oh, yeah. They’re going to be watching that channel a whole lot more, if Jamie has anything to say about it.

**Author's Note:**

> This story may vastly overestimate:
> 
> 1) the hotness of most gay porn
> 
> and
> 
> 2) the ability of a naked Tyler Seguin to avert an imminent homophobic crisis.
> 
> …but then again, maybe not. ;)
> 
> [Tumblr](http://linskywords.tumblr.com) if you want it!


End file.
